


Relief

by VenatorNoctis



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Caning, First Time, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masochism, Painplay, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 16:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21164837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenatorNoctis/pseuds/VenatorNoctis
Summary: At first their sessions are much like a proper military punishment: Ravus strips only to the waist, Ardyn applies the lash, and if that provokes any untoward reactions (as it always does), neither of them discuss it. But some appetites only increase when fed.





	Relief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dudewheresmytea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudewheresmytea/gifts).

He never meant to get involved with the Oracle's scions at all. He has a lot to orchestrate, far too many factors to balance, and dealing with either of them personally instead of at a comfortable distance seemed likely to complicate things. Handling them by proxy was by far the easier option.

At least, that was what he told himself until he heard the rumors about Ravus Nox Fleuret's rebellious behavior as a freshly enlisted cadet, and the scandalous gossip about what might motivate it. It wouldn't do to have Ravus fail to place himself in a useful position, and that was Ardyn's excuse for investigating—and that was how he found himself, in the guise of an impassive MT, standing guard at the parade ground as he watched the erstwhile prince of Tenebrae suffer twenty lashes from his commanding officer with an erection that never flagged.

That was plenty of information to allow Ardyn to intervene. Ravus was...reluctant to turn to him at first, but admitted he saw the logic of separating his need for catharsis from his need for advancement into power. He would likely have chosen anyone else to be his scourge (a term Ardyn thinks he is admirably controlled to not use out loud) had he anyone in the empire to trust, but of course he does not and cannot be allowed to. So someone discreet (through misdirection) and not part of the military (were it not for his poison animating it) will have to do.

It turns out to be less of an ordeal than Ardyn expected. True, the Oracle's blood is visible in the line's last generation, but less so in Ravus than in his sister, particularly as the sharpness of his face becomes more evident. There is a bitter chill in him that places him firmly in the present rather than the distant past, and that is easy to encourage with a few well-chosen words between strokes of the whip.

At first their sessions are much like a proper military punishment: Ravus strips only to the waist, Ardyn applies the lash, and if that provokes any untoward reactions (as it always does), neither of them discuss it. But some appetites only increase when fed. Ardyn acquires an assortment of flexible rattan canes, and learns how to ply them to achieve precisely the intensity he intends. Ravus consents to bend over Ardyn's desk, trousers around his knees, and slowly grows less cautious in giving voice to his reactions.

And eventually that isn't enough, either. The evening comes when Ardyn stops after the first half-dozen strokes with the cane, stepping closer to run his fingertips up the back of Ravus' thigh. The welts are a rich red that promises bruising, and the skin is almost fever-hot.

Ravus trembles at the touch, his next inhale shaky and audible. "What are you doing?"

Ardyn traces the angriest of the welts across both thighs, watching Ravus shiver. He lets his hand trail further up, until he can hook one finger in the waistband of Ravus' briefs and tug. "Take these down."

For a moment Ravus doesn't react, his body stiff with... outrage, perhaps? Simple shock? Ardyn wonders if he'll protest, and whether to back down if he does. There are arguments to be made either way.

It turns out to be moot, as Ravus takes another deep breath and pushes his briefs down to join his trousers around his knees. He looks fetchingly vulnerable, presenting his bare ass and thighs for punishment; it's a shame he has nobody trustworthy to share this with.

"Much better," Ardyn says. "I suppose strictly speaking that isn't necessary, but it would be a terrible shame to miss out on the sharp edges of the sensation when that's the cane's specialty."

"I'm not here for a lecture," Ravus says stiffly, his almost-aggressive tone undermined by his inability to look up from the desk he's holding onto.

"Of course," Ardyn agrees. "My apologies." Ravus is here for anything he chooses to administer, and it is only his _infinite patience_ that prevents him saying so.

He flicks his wrist and the cane strikes Ravus' ass with a satisfying _snap_, followed so closely by a breathy cry that the two sounds are almost one. Ravus' pale skin shows marks so easily, and the cane leaves such a distinctive signature, that long straight stripe of red with white at its center where the skin itself is so stunned it hasn't yet flushed. Striking his ass instead of his thighs only makes the stripes look more appealing. Ardyn does it again and Ravus makes a sound as though he either wants to come or cry. Perhaps both, given the way he already reacted to more orthodox punishments.

Ardyn doesn't ask, though keeping quiet is by far the most difficult part of this exchange as far as he's concerned. Instead he pauses between strokes of the cane to run his hand over the flesh he's just savaged. The shifts from cruel touch to kind have the most striking (hah) effect on Ravus; he is as likely to flinch from a gentle caress as he is to arch toward a bruising stroke from the cane. It's remarkable, and Ardyn finds his own body responding to the display of shivering, honest need.

The hardest of his strokes have left marks that are turning purple already, Ravus' ass and thighs striped with a blossoming palette of sunset colors. His flesh is firm under Ardyn's touch, the supple muscle of a young warrior, and he lifts his hips to press his most tender bruises into Ardyn’s hands. What began as a simple task to ensure he remained useful has turned into something far more indulgent than that. 

"Beautiful," Ardyn murmurs without meaning to.

"I can take more," Ravus answers immediately.

"I don't doubt it, my dear boy." Ardyn runs his fingers along a hot and tender bruise that lies right in the crease between ass and thigh, then lets his fingertips dip into the delicate, hidden space between Ravus' legs. The first gentle caress to his balls makes Ravus whimper just as though he's been struck again. Of course he won't have had much of a chance to experience this sort of connection, either; he's too guarded to pursue casual liaisons the way some young men do, and his options for serious trysts are... Well. He's here, after all.

And yet Ardyn is unsure of exactly how this evening will end until Ravus takes a shivery breath, _almost_ not pushing into his touch, and asks, "What do you want?"

"Only for you to enjoy this with me," Ardyn says easily, the sort of lie anyone could tell in a moment like this.

Ravus tenses, looking back over his shoulder suspiciously, but when Ardyn starts to unbuckle his belt he relaxes again, setting his jaw as though he's prepared to endure what comes next. Expecting something rough and selfish thanks to the crude humor of the barracks, or simply treating this as payment for the punishment he craved?

Either way, it makes Ardyn perversely determined to ensure that he does enjoy himself after all. He spits in his hand and transmutes it—one of those few scraps of the old Caelum magics that he can still use—and uses the resulting oil to slick his cock. When he steps close behind Ravus again, the boy's shoulders tighten, but there's no protest. Instead of penetrating him Ardyn slips his cock between Ravus' thighs, where the skin is soft and warm.

"_Oh_," Ravus breathes as Ardyn's body covers his, rocking his hips slightly as though he's trying out the feel of having a cock between his thighs, pressing up snug and slick against his balls. Ardyn bites his nape and he moans, a beautiful lost and yearning sound. "I—can I—" He starts to slide one hand down, hesitant.

Ardyn kisses the imprint his teeth have left. "Allow me." He reaches down and takes Ravus' hard cock in his hand, and this time he can _feel_ the needy shudder his touch provokes. He hums, seduced momentarily into simply enjoying the feeling of a strong, warm body beneath him. When he catches himself he bites down on the muscle of Ravus' shoulder before he can either forget himself further or sabotage the moment.

And Ravus' lovely throat shapes his next moan into a word, _Yes_, raw and heartfelt. He thrusts into Ardyn's hand, panting for breath, his every thrust making Ardyn's cock slide between his thighs. His defenses are down at last and he's letting himself go. Connection like this is so precious when it's rare.

It can't last for either of them—what is almost certainly Ravus' first such encounter, and is Ardyn's first indulgence after quite a fast. A few minutes of steady stroking and Ravus is arching under him, crying out in relief as his cock stiffens and spills. Ardyn picks up his own pace in the aftermath, face buried in the hollow of Ravus' shoulder, and rides out a shuddering, unsteady moment when he can feel how little difference there is between the man and the Scourge.

But the moment passes and he is the man again, breathing hard against Ravus' neck, where he can see the hammering pulse just beneath pale skin. The room smells of sex. The desk is likely an atrocious mess.

Ardyn straightens up and steps back, taking a moment to survey the wreckage. And what a picture Ravus paints: bitten, beaten, trembling with relief, possibly the closest Ardyn has ever seen him to truly relaxed. 

Ravus pushes himself up with shaking arms, turning toward Ardyn and then stopping as though unsure what to do with himself. He must be quite a mess.

"Well," Ardyn says. "I do believe we've found what was missing from the way they do it in the army." Ravus shoots him a look of alarm and he smiles as though he's nothing to worry about. "Don't look so dismayed, my dear. I have no intention of _sharing_ my findings. It'll be our secret."

"Right," Ravus says. The softness in his voice is unsettling. "Our secret. Thanks."

It's a secret Ardyn intends to keep, because it clearly means so much to Ravus, and keeping the secrets a man cares about is a way to make an ally of him whether he likes it or not. And if it also means they might continue this arrangement, complete with its new development—

That can't be allowed to matter. But perhaps he'll enjoy it all the same.


End file.
